


Creature of Habit

by acollectionofficsandshit



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Not Beta Read, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:00:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29555298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acollectionofficsandshit/pseuds/acollectionofficsandshit
Summary: Luckily for you, Max Verstappen was, if nothing else, a creature of habit. That promised a lot of things on any night, but at the moment, it meant that you knew how he’d react to being pushed out of his comfort zone. If you dared him to play a game, he wouldn’t shy away because he didn’t know it. No, he’d accept the dare because he didn’t like backing down, especially when the game offered him the chance to win something he wanted.So, you open your mouth before your brain has the chance to stop you.“You know Max,” you say without any warning, speaking up to be heard over the dialogue on the screen, “if there’s something you want from me, all you have to do is say so.”
Relationships: Max Verstappen/Original Female Character(s), Max Verstappen/Reader, Max Verstappen/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	Creature of Habit

The invitation from Max to come over for a movie marathon isn’t exactly new territory, nor was the obscene amount of take-out food you’d order. It was the opposite of the unknown, when these nights had become a tradition for the two of you. if Max wasn’t somewhere halfway around the world at a race and you didn’t have a lecture in the morning or an assignment due at midnight, then odds were, this is where you would be.

It had become such a constant in your life that you could hardly remember a time where the two of you didn’t just instinctually know which movie he’d be in the mood for tonight or where you’d want to order dinner from. Max had quickly picked up on the small things and made a point of remember your favorite things to order from the different take-out menus, to always order extra spring rolls if he didn’t want to share. Just like you always insisted he take the sofa so he could stretch out properly and get comfortable.

You’d been relegated to the old armchair tucked into the corner of the room nearest to the unlit fireplace. While the spot on the sofa most certainly had better view of the plasma screen, not to mention the wide view of London visible through the wall of windows in front of him, you were still more than happy to sit where you were.

It was secretly your favorite spot in entire Max’s flat. Maybe the whole city if you were really being honest. A huge skylight was cut into the ceiling above the little corner, which, in your opinion, made the massive armchair into the best seat in the house on the spot.

You could just sink back into the old leather, lean your head back and lose yourself in the uninterrupted view of the sky above you. Of course, there were never many stars visible through the city lights and the choking haze of exhaust, but at least from the armchair, the sky always looked perfect, like a perfectly framed photo.

So tonight, as always, you both sat in your spots on the opposite sides of his living room from one another. Max lays sprawled out across the majority of his expensive looking sofa, which really was too small to be shared, a silly purchase oversight you’d not really let him live down yet.

The entire process had become a practiced dance where each partner knew the other’s next step, so the movements were smooth and uninterrupted. The way you danced around each other, the familiarity of gorging yourselves on enough food to feed an entire family, had a distinctly domestic air to it.

Another familiar thing was the way he was watching you right now from his spot on the sofa. That was as old as the rest of the routine you had, no, this development was relatively new. The jittery, excited feeling that lingering gaze stirred to life deep in your chest was a newer addition too.

And if Max wanted to spend the rest of the stealing glances at you, that was his prerogative. But it didn’t mean you weren’t finding it increasingly distracting. You didn’t know why exactly, after months and months of feeling his gaze find you, of wanting to know why his eyes lingered longer and more than often than with anyone else, you decided tonight you be the night to find out.

If there was anything you’d learned in your time with Max, it was the importance of taking advantage of every opportunity to even the score if the chance arose, especially because you could always count on him to. So a movie night, like any other you’d had over the past few years suddenly seemed like the perfect time and place to get to the bottom of it all, once and for all.

The option had begun to sit at the precipice of your mind on previous nights like this one, just a few weeks ago. With him at home in London, not away at a race or with an event that was team mandatory would be the only real opportunity you’d be given, so you had to take what you could.

Luckily for you, Max Verstappen was, if nothing else, a creature of habit. That promised a lot of things on any night, but at the moment, it meant that you knew how he’d react to being pushed out of his comfort zone. If you dared him to play a game, he wouldn’t shy away because he didn’t know it. No, he’d accept the dare because he didn’t like backing down, especially when the game offered him the chance to win something he wanted.

So, you open your mouth before your brain has the chance to stop you.

“You know Max,” you say without any warning, speaking up to be heard over the dialogue on the screen, “if there’s something you want from me, all you have to do is say so.”

What you had really meant was that he could ask you for everything you were worth and you’d give it to him. No hesitation. Max could ask you to crawl across the room to him right now, on yours hands and knees, and you’d probably do it.

Max could ask you to distract him, to make him feel good and you’d happily do as requested. You’d be sure to do your job so well that afterwards everyone else would be ruined for him, that no one but you would be enough for him anymore. At least then maybe you’d get to know what everyone being ruined save for that one person looked like, instead of just knowing what it felt like.

Max didn’t rush his response. No, he took his time. In this, of all things, he wasn’t going to open his mouth and say the first thing that came to mind. Or maybe that was just because Max wasn’t you. The role of rushing into this head first was already taken.

“Anything I want?” He muses at you, one hand rising absently to rub at the back of his neck. You nodded mutely in response. “No rules?”

Leave it to Max to decide to start by asking what would constituted out of bounds, to ask immediately just how far he can push the line before it breaks, to want to test just how absolute it is.

“No rules,” you decided, then offer, “and no take backs.” He nods once in approval.

“Seems fair,” you shrug at him, the movement too relaxed for the way your heart is pounding in your chest. Max turns his body squarely in your direction, legs spread in a way that draw your attention to his lap. The pull to break eye contact with him and follow the path of his body down, down, down is a battle not worth fighting. So you give in.

The movie continues to play on, completely forgotten in the background. The look on Max’s face is predatory when he pats his lap. You’re across the room and straddling his thighs without hesitation. His hands glide slowly up the back of your legs, taking the time to savor the rigid tension of your muscles. When one hand finds the small of your back and the other settles in the curve of your waist, the warmth and weight of his grasp is undeniably possessive.

You’re too nervous to look him in the face. You know there’s no way to ignore you’d look at him right now, desperate and already entirely his. You sit in silence like that for a moment, his hands possessive and claiming, yours curled limply in your lap.

“Hey,” he says softly, but you don’t move. “If I read this wrong, if this is- if you don’t-“ he tries, then shakes his head and clears his throat. “Look at me,” Max says, “baby.”

And fuck, if hearing him call you baby doesn’t nearly undo you, the look on his stupid, handsome face does when you do as he asks. You both move at the same time, your mouths crashing into one another with the hunger that only exists when you’ve spent a considerable amount of time fantasizing about kissing someone.

Heat licks at you stomach at the way he groans into your mouth when you press your chest against his, and his hips roll reflexively against yours. You respond to the movement immediately and don’t stop, loving the feeling of his thickly muscled body against every point of contact with you, Max just grins into the kiss that’s devolved to lips and tongue and more teeth than is strictly necessary.

“I love having you like this,” he says.

“Like what?” you ask him breathlessly, moving your mouth to trace the side of his jaw and down the curve of this throat.

“Begging me for more when I haven’t even gotten started yet.”

“I’m not begging,” you say, making him chuckle, “audibly,” you finish lamely.

“But you will be, when I ask you to. Because that’s how this works, right?”

“Right,” you say.

And he was. You could never have dreamed up just how fucking quickly he’d pick up the new game you’d introduced him to or how easily he’d find the boundaries and begin to test them. How seamlessly he’d take over what was supposed to be your game and shamelessly beat you at it.

“So, beg. Beg me.”

“Please, please,” you whined.

“No, baby, no. I want to hear you. I want you to tell me what you want.”

“Max, please, touch me. I need you to touch me.”

“Touch you where?”

“Anywhere, please, anywhere you want.”

“Anywhere I want?” He breathes, you nod desperately.

“Anywhere, anything, Max, please just touch me. I want to feel you.”

“That’s not how this works. But since that seems too complicated for you right now, I’ll make it simple. Do you want me to touch you here,” he squeezes your breast, thumb ghosting over your nipple through your shirt and bra. “Or here,” he cups between your legs and- _oh my fucking god_ \- grinds the heel of his hand up against your clit, hard

* * *

“Don’t tease me like that,” he says, begs, like a man at the breaking point. 

“Like what?” you ask, rubbing the fat head of his cock back through your folds again, tightening your hold on him. 

“Like that, like you're content to do this all day.” 

“And you’re not?” 

Max lets out a strangled noise when his cock is pressed flush to his pelvis when you slide back and forth against him, lips parting around him so he can feel everything. You swear loudly when his tip hits your clit, the pleasure white hot, and you feel Max’s cock literally twitch beneath me at the way you clench around him. 

“How are you this fucking wet already?” He asks, clearly loving the loud, obscene noises filling the room, when you’re just rutting against each other like hormonal teenagers and the only time he’s ever been in you was when he had his fingers buried in you just moments ago. Loving the affect, he has on you, how your body responds to him like it already knows who it belongs to. 

“Because” you pull away from him, and he literally whines at the loss of contact as you lean forward. “Max,” you whisper in his ear, “I know how good you’re going to fuck me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Your comments, thoughts and suggestions are always welcomed and appreciated! Thank you for making it this far in the first place!


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